


A False Promise

by Duchesse



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, F/M, M/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Self-Insert, a li'l bit sad but mostly pretty okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 18:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15346077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchesse/pseuds/Duchesse
Summary: Julian is invited into your home by your mothers in hopes of easing your suffering of the plague.[Julian Devorak | Reader]





	A False Promise

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from tumblr: julian meeting his s/o because theyre sick with the red plague?

He had been called to the home of a noble family, greeted at the door personally by mothers with fretful, twisted expressions. It was an oddity to him to see their shoulders slump in relief at the sight of his mask, their fingers twining inexhaustibly as they scuttled ahead and led him to your chambers.

There was something hauntingly beautiful about you despite being bedridden, ensnared and waiting for death to take you. Even behind the red lenses, he could discern the deep flush to your skin and the crimson sclera when your swollen eyelids opened. 

For a moment, he saw your eyes flicker in panic but it seemed to ebb quite quickly as though accepting what you saw. The moist handkerchief fell from your forehead as you turned towards him, eyes glistening curiously as the chair at your side groaned beneath his weight.

“You’re the first plague doctor I’ve seen.” Despite your sickly words tapering off as you caught your breath, you showed little trepidation. “My mums said they’d never invite one into their home.”

“Is that so?” he gave a chuckle, taking the cloth from your sheets and dipping it into the water bowl at his side. “Well now, I’m fortunate to be given the honor of being the first.”

The water dripped back into the bowl as he wrung the fabric, though he couldn’t coax his eyes away from you. You were almost otherworldly, A refreshing sight to the rot of flesh and moans of agony which he was accustom. 

“Pardon my manners, but lie back. You aren’t doing yourself any favors by moving around like that.” He returned the fabric to your forehead, pushing your head to the pillow once more. “It looks like your condition has progressed to the end stages.”

You almost seemed disinterested in what he had to say about the disease, eyes wandering listlessly around the room while he spoke. “It all means I’m going to die, right? I’ve still got some friends alive, they’re telling me about that island that people are being carted off to. I’ll join them eventually, right?”

In moments like these, he was thankful his face was obscured by the mask, though it did not go on to ease the rigidity in his back, nor the silence that swallowed you both.

He gave it a little more thought before answering, “Now, now. Getting ahead of yourself a little there, aren’t you? I do have a treatment or two I intend on administering. With… your consent, of course.”

For a second time, the handkerchief fell from your forehead as you leaned across the edge of the bed and touched his mask, fingertips tracing the length of the beak as though marveling and memorizing the texture against your skin. 

“I’ll endure any treatment you have so long as you show your face to me once I’ve been cured.” Your proposition sounded more a joke than it was an actual suggestion, though the words held no mirth nor liveliness. “What do you say, doctor. A fair exchange?”

He couldn’t feel the warmth of your hand through his gloves, but pretended to do so as he patted his other hand atop yours. 

“That can most definitely be arranged.”


End file.
